No Two Hearts
by ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: Belle French's life as an attorney and single mother has never lent itself to romance. But when a blast from her past shows up unexpectedly, it puts her whole world in a tailspin. A Rumbelle AU.
1. A Memory of Pain

Belle French had faced her share of shock and trauma in her relatively short life, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of the little blue box clutched tightly in Gary Stone's large hand.

She should want this. Any woman would want this. Gary was fantastic. He was smart, driven, successful. He was good looking in a conventional, if slightly boring way. He was exactly the type of guy you would want to bring home to your parents. The kind of guy you want to love, honor and protect you. But Belle didn't want any of that, and she especially didn't want Gary.

She stared down at the ring in horror. Well, perhaps horror was a strong word. More than anything she felt an overwhelming sense of apathy.

In retrospect, she should have seen this coming. She and Gary had been dating for over a year. He was thirty-five, financially secure, had a great job. After all, a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife. It just hadn't struck Belle until that moment that anyone would seeher as that wife.

In all honesty, she assumed what she and Gary had was casual. They didn't live together. They'd never taken a vacation together. She'd met his family only once when they'd visited at Thanksgiving. She hadn't meant to let things get this far, but she was lonely and Gary was kind. It had been easy to just go with the flow, let him take her out to dinner once a week, spend the occasional night over. But she couldn't marry him, he must know that.

The truth was, Belle didn't see herself marrying anyone. She could never marry someone for whom she felt anything less than tingles. Only the very deepest love, true love, would have her marching down an aisle in a white dress. And poor Gary just did not inspire those feelings in her. Only one person ever had.

Gary was starting to sweat beneath the crisp collar of his dress shirt. His blue eyes were wide, his smile stretched across his face in a strange tableau of happiness and love. But she knew he didn't feel it either. Gary was going through the motions, checking off the appropriate boxes on his way to his dream life. Corner office? Check! Silver Mercedes? Check! Little wife? Almost check!

She knew she'd stayed silent too long, her stunned response not what Gary had been expecting. She also knew that some sort of response was needed, required even. But part of her wished she could just freeze time, stay in the moment with Gary blissfully unaware of what she was about to say and her own conscience guilt free. But Belle had no super powers. She was an ordinary woman, and time ticked on, the minute hand slowly circumnavigating the face of Gary's Rolex.

She swallowed, sitting back in her chair. Why did he have to do this in public? Right in the middle of a crowded restaurant on a Friday evening. The complete and total lack of understanding of what Belle herself would want in this situation slightly eased her mind at what she was about to do. He really didn't know her at all.

"Well, darling?" Gary prompted, his heartbeat pulsing in the vein at his temple. Belle was distracted by that vein, focusing on it intently instead of her would-be intended's manic eyes. "Don't leave me hanging, Belle."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her small hand around Gary's larger one and forcing the jewelry box closed. The gentle sound of velvet meeting velvet seemed to echo through the dining room as the glittering diamond solitaire was snuffed from view.

Gary's brow knitted as though he couldn't quite conceive of what was happening.

"What are you sorry about?" he asked, glancing down at the closed box as the vein in his temple picked up the pace.

"I can't marry you, Gary," she said slowly. She wished she could have done this somewhere more private, but to say anything other than no in this moment would give him false hope, would only hurt him more in the long run. Belle couldn't do that to him. She only thanked her lucky stars he'd remained seated throughout this debacle and hadn't done something truly stupid like fall to one knee. There were enough people staring their way even without that clear indicator of exactly what was happening at table 6 at Chez Antoine.

The silly smile on Gary's face slipped away as he pocketed the jewelry box. Belle felt she could breathe easier as soon as the thing was out of sight.

"Why not?" he asked, suddenly solemn. "Is this about Elizabeth? Because I thought..."

"No," Belle assured him. "Gary, I'm not the one for you."

Her boyfriend cocked an eyebrow at her. "Then what exactly have we been doing for the past year?"

Belle sighed, rubbing at her temple with one manicured hand.

"Having fun?" she shrugged. "We've never talked about long term. I didn't realize you were even thinking of something so permanent."

"Dammit, Belle," Gary whispered harshly. "I had a plan."

"Well I'm sorry I don't conform to your plan," Belle said, affronted. "But I have to do what's right for me. I wouldn't make you happy, Gary. I think deep down you know that."

Gary leaned away from her with a stiff nod. "Well you're certainly not making me happy now."

He signaled the waiter for the check and less than ten minutes later Belle found herself bundled into a cab and headed home. Gary had insisted on paying the fare, against Belle's objections. But she'd eventually given in rather than face the stifling silence of having him drive her home.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the cracked seat of the taxi. She'd expected a predictable night out with Gary, and now she found herself alone and single yet again. Well, not alone. Not really.

She let herself into her house wearily, the sound of The Real Housewives of Somewhere trickling in from the den. She found Ruby half asleep on the couch and woke her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. After a hug, a promise to call her the next morning and a $20 bill surreptitiously slipped into her purse when she wasn't looking, Ruby left and Belle flipped the television off wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

She kicked her heels off in the den and made her way upstairs, stripping out of her cocktail dress on the way. She dropped the garment in a crumpled mess in the chair next to her closet and pulled on her favorite old red men's dress shirt, shoving the frayed cuffs up over her hands and burying her nose in the collar as she always did, trying to catch some phantom scent that had long since evaporated.

She took a steadying breath before leaving her bedroom and heading across the hall, peeking in at the sleeping figure within. With a smile, she slipped into the room, climbing onto the bed and spooning up behind the little body hidden beneath the covers.

"Mommy?" came a sleepy voice, tousled brown curls appearing from beneath the sheets.

"Shhh, baby, go back to sleep."

"How was your date?" the little voice asked, sounding more awake this time.

Belle was silent for a long moment, cuddling close to her daughter.

"He asked me to marry him," she said eventually.

"What did you say?" her daughter yawned, turning over to bury herself in her mother's arms.

Belle kissed her daughter's forehead, stroking her back.

"I said no, of course."

"Oh," the little girl said, rather dejectedly.

"Would you have wanted me to say yes?" Belle asked, pulling away to look down at her daughter.

The little girl shrugged. "I want you to be happy."

"I am happy, baby," she assured her. "You make me happy."

"I know," the little girl said, closing her eyes and rolling back over. "But grownups like to be with other grownups."

"Why would I want to spend time with boring grownups when I could spend all my time with you?" Belle asked.

Her daughter just shrugged again. "Why don't you want to marry Gary?"

Belle smiled to herself, pushing a curl out of her daughter's face.

"I think you can probably guess why," she replied.

"No tingles?" her daughter asked, opening her eyes and looking at her mother wryly. A look she'd inherited from a father she'd never met.

"Not a one," Belle said playfully.

"But my dad gave you tingles, right?"

"Your dad was extremely tingle-worthy," she assured her.

"That's good," her daughter said, cuddling her stuffed bear close and burying herself beneath the covers once again. "Goodnight, Mommy."

"Goodnight, Elizabeth."

She was too tired to make her way to her own bedroom, and she didn't much feel like being alone with her thoughts tonight anyway, so Belle pulled the covers up over herself, settling in close to her daughter on the twin sized bed. It wasn't Gary's fault she didn't love him. Perhaps in another world, one where she hadn't fallen so completely at the tender age of twenty-two, she could have loved him. But here she was, wrapped in her dead lover's shirt and clinging to her dead lover's daughter. Nine years on and she was still in love with a dead man. Some days she hated him for that, hated him for leaving her, for dying.

A single tear slipped from beneath her eyelashes and she swiped it away quickly. She hadn't shed tears for him in some time, and she wouldn't start now. What had happened was a tragedy, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had Lizzy, and that's what mattered. Part of him lived on in their child. If Belle spent the rest of her life alone, it would be well worth the price.

She fell into a dreamless sleep, unaware of the black Cadillac parked down the block or its occupant who'd been watching the house for some time.


	2. Of Recollecting and Forgetting

_"If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control!"_ - Jane Austen, _Mansfield Park_

* * *

><p>It had been years since he'd been back in Massachusetts. When one got on the wrong side of certain people, it generally wasn't a good idea to stay in Boston. But now he was here.<p>

He'd only wanted one glimpse of her, one passing glance to last him through the long lonely nights of his life. He wanted to know that she was safe, happy. He'd had a tail on her over the years, of course. He knew she was okay. But he'd wanted to see for himself.

He hadn't expected the girl, and he'd be having words with certain people for that revelation. But now he couldn't leave, not until he knew. The child looked about eight, exactly the age any child of theirs would have been. Of course he couldn't know for sure. Perhaps she'd just moved on quickly. Perhaps he hadn't meant as much to her as she had to him. She was young, so much younger than him. He might be no more to her than a distant dream, a youthful indiscretion long since moved on from. It would be better that way, honestly.

But he couldn't leave until he knew for sure. He quickly called up one of his men, had them cancel the jet. He'd be staying in Boston for a while longer.

* * *

><p>There were a few things that Elizabeth Anne French knew for sure. Chief among those was that she was named after Elizabeth Bennet and Anne Elliot, a product of her mother's slightly alarming obsession with Jane Austen. Second of all, her mother loved her more than anything else on the planet. And third, and most pressing, she was going to fail the third grade.<p>

She stared down at the assignment in her hand as she walked down the steps of her school. It seemed so simple, in theory, but it was going to be nearly impossible. Their history class was studying oral tradition and Miss Blanchard had assigned them a Family Heritage project. They were supposed to draft their family tree and then talk to first hand sources about their own lineage.

That was all well and good for kids who actually had a family. But Lizzie wasn't one of those kids. She had a mom, and that was it.

She'd never felt lacking before. Mom had always been all the family she needed. For as long as she could remember, it had been just the two of them, and that had always been enough. But Lizzie wasn't a baby anymore.

Mom never talked about her dad much, and when she did it was in vague terms like "tingles". She'd heard the story of how they met a hundred times, always couched in fairy tale language. In the story her father was a beast with a tragic past, her mother was a young woman who'd gone to work for him and seen through the pain and hurt to the handsome prince underneath.

She knew her father had been a good man, that her mother loved him and that he'd died before she was born. Anything beyond that was just guessing. Lizzie didn't even know his name or what he looked like though her mom often said Lizzie resembled him.

Lizzie thought he must not have been very good looking, despite what her mother said. Her mom was beautiful with blue eyes and thick gleaming chestnut hair. Lizzie was the smallest kid in her class with knobby knees and boring brown eyes.

With a sigh she stuffed her family tree paper into her folder and pulled her book sack around to her front to put it away. She wasn't watching where she was going, just struggling with the zipper on her bag as she headed off down the street to where she knew Aunt Ruby's red Camaro would be waiting for her, when all of a sudden she bumped into something hard.

Lizzie went stumbling back, dropping her folder which flipped open scattering her papers to the wind.

"Oh no!" she cried.

A hand reached out to steady her, but she didn't bother looking at the owner as she dropped her bag and set off after her papers, scooping them up before they were tossed off down the street.

Once she'd gathered them up, making sure she hadn't missed anything, she headed back to where she'd dropped her bag, but froze when she saw a man kneeling next to it holding her folder in one hand. He was dressed in a suit, like the men at Mom's office, but his brown hair was long, almost to his shoulders. The two things didn't go together in Lizzie's mind and it made her uncomfortable.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said with an accented voice. "I'm afraid I didn't see you there."

"That's okay," Lizzie said suspiciously, ripping the folder out of his hand and quickly stuffing her papers back inside it.

"I hope you didn't lose anything," the man continued, getting back to his feet with the help of a cane. He was looking at her with a slightly indulgent smile on his lips and his brown eyes seemed kind. But Lizzie knew better than to trust strange men.

"It's fine," Lizzie replied, finally getting her bag open and putting her folder away.

"I'm Liam," the man said, reaching a hand out as if to shake hers.

Lizzie stared at his hand as though it might bite her.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she finally told him directly.

"Well that's smart," the man, Liam, said with a chuckle. "Your parents must have taught you well."

"My mom did," Lizzie said, shouldering her bag. She wasn't sure why she was telling this man anything. He certainly was a stranger, and Lizzie was definitely suspicious of him, but something about him seemed trustworthy. That was probably bad.

Without another word, Lizzie turned and headed off quickly down the street.

"It was nice to meet you, Elizabeth!" the man called after her.

Lizzie whipped around.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.

"It's monogramed on your bag," the man returned with another one of those indulgent half smiles, just a quirk of his lips really.

Lizzie turned, looking down at her pink backpack where sure enough her name was stitched into the fabric in blue cursive letters.

With one final suspicious look at the stranger, she ran off down the street to Ruby's car.

"Hey, chickadee," Ruby said brightly as Lizzie slid into the passenger seat. "How was school?"

"Fine," Lizzie replied, glancing out the window to where the man had so recently been, hoping for another glimpse. But he was already gone.

She didn't tell Ruby about the man. It would just make her worry. He was probably nothing, just some nice old man walking down the street. But Lizzie felt a tingle on the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. She slumped down in the seat next to Ruby and pulled her knees up against her chest, but she still felt exposed.

Ruby eyed her suspiciously before glancing out the window.

"Everything okay, kid?"

Lizzie just nodded, staring straight ahead at the dashboard.

"Well in that case, I think it's definitely time for ice cream."

The promise of strawberry ice cream with chocolate sauce had Lizzie sitting a little straighter in her seat, and by the time they reached the ice cream parlor she'd forgotten all about Liam, his cane, and his kind brown eyes.

* * *

><p>Belle had been dreading work on Monday all weekend, and the day proved even worse than she could have imagined.<p>

The esteemed law offices of Midas, Gold and Nolan hadn't seemed so imposing since she was a 2L law student on the first day of her internship. But then again, she'd never had to face work only days after turning down a co-worker's proposal of marriage.

It shouldn't have been an issue, her workplace romance. Gary was in a completely different division on a completely different floor. She could go weeks without seeing him if need be. She rarely dealt with the attorneys in real estate development.

Not even a wave from her friend Graham Humbert, head of building security, could cheer her up as she headed toward the bank of elevators with grim determination.

And of course, because the universe had never missed an opportunity to deal her a raw hand, she just happened to step on to the elevator at the same time as Gary. Great, she hadn't even had her first coffee of the day yet.

"Belle," Gary said stiffly, not meeting her eye.

"Good morning, Gary," she replied tensely.

They didn't exchange another word until they arrived on the 42nd floor and Belle could escape the confines of the elevator car.

"Have a good day, Miss French," Gary said coldly as the elevator doors shut behind her.

Belle felt like she could breathe easier as soon as he was out of her presence, but her day only got worse from there.

Rex Midas glanced in her office mid morning to let her know he was putting her on a big real estate closing.

"Belle," he said, popping his head in to her office. "I need you to head up to 44. There's a huge closing going down and we need all hands on deck."

"I'm in the middle of drafting a contract for the big construction merger…"

"Is it immediately pressing?" Midas interrupted her.

"Well, it's a very technical contract it's going to take me…"

"The closing is Wednesday," Midas interrupted again. "It's more pressing. Gary Stone specifically asked for you."

"I bet he did," Belle muttered under her breath as Midas continued off down the hall.

She glanced over at the framed photo of Lizzie on her desk. There was a reason for all this, she reminded herself. She'd gone to law school because, as cliché as it sounded, she wanted to help people. But in her first few years as a practicing attorney, Belle had only managed to help rich old men get richer. She'd been idealistic in her youth, but the realities of life, massive student loan debt and being a single mother, had forced her to take the highest paying job available. It was thanks to this job that she could afford to send Lizzie to one of the best schools in the city. It was because of this job that she could provide Lizzie with a home. It was because of this job that she could supplement Ruby's waitressing paycheck with a monthly salary for childcare services. She could take care of the people she loved, and that was what was important.

She tried to hold on to that conviction as she headed up to Gary's office. Whatever he was playing at, it wasn't good.

It was nearly 8 o'clock by the time Belle left the office. She'd stayed late to put in more hours on her contract after spending most of the day in Gary's office. He'd barely spoken to her throughout their long hours together and she couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. As much as she didn't want to marry the man, she'd been happy to be his friend. She had so few people in her life to begin with and here she was losing one of the few.

She trudged into the house, kicking off her heels and massaging the sore arches of her feet before heading into the kitchen where Ruby was doing homework with Lizzie at the table.

"Hey, Mom!" her daughter said brightly.

"What are you still doing down here?" she asked, taking a wine glass out of the cabinet and pouring herself a healthy measure of pinot noir. "Shouldn't it be bath time?"

"She has a big assignment she needed your help on," Ruby explained.

"It's a family tree," Lizzie said, holding up a piece of paper with the outline of a tree with blank spaces on each of the branches.

"Okay," Belle replied, sitting down next to her daughter at the table. "There's you and me, then Grandpa Moe and Granny Collette above that. Grandpa Moe's mum was named Isabelle. She's who I'm named for…"

"No, I don't need any of that," Lizzie said, biting her lip like her mother often did when she was nervous. "I need your help to fill out the other side."

Lizzie tapped a finger against the blank space labeled "Father" and Belle's stomach did an uncomfortable backflip. She always knew this day would come, when silly little children's stories masking the truth wouldn't be enough, when Lizzie would want to know about her father in real terms.

"You know what, I should head out," Ruby said quickly, standing from the table. "I've got to work the breakfast shift tomorrow at the diner."

"Yeah, thanks Ruby," Belle replied distractedly, watching her friend gather up her stuff and head for the front door. As soon as the door closed with a resounding click, Lizzie rounded on her mother.

"So, can we talk about the other side of my family tree?"

"It looks like I need to have a talk with your teacher about the changing familial landscape within our modern world," Belle said, taking a long sip from her wine glass to buy herself some time.

"Don't blame Miss Blanchard," Lizzie refuted. "She said we only had to fill out as much as we could, whether that was one side or two. But I want to know about my dad."

"He was a lovely man and I loved him very much," Belle said with a shrug, sure that wouldn't be enough to satiate Lizzie's curiosity.

"I know all that," Lizzie said grumpily. "But I don't know anything about him. What was his name? What did he do? Did he have any brothers and sisters? Do I have cousins that I don't know about? How did he die?"

"Lizzie…" Belle began, but her daughter cut her off.

"No, you never talk about him except to say that he was wonderful. Well that's not enough. I want to know more," Lizzie demanded. "You say you loved him so much, then why don't you ever want to talk about him? Why don't you have his picture up in the house?"

"It's complicated…"

"No it's not!" Lizzie cried. "That's just what grownups say when they don't want you asking questions."

"It still hurts, Lizzie!" Belle finally broke. "Your dad was the love of my life, and he's gone. I'll never have him back and it hurts to think about what might have been. I wish so hard that you could have known him, sweetheart, but that's not how life panned out. I'm sorry that I don't talk about him, but it's easier not to. It's easier to pretend it was all some fairy tale that brought me you because the reality of the situation just…sucks."

The long day at work, the cold shoulder from Gary, her daughter's questions, memories she'd rather not dwell on all seemed to overwhelm her for a moment. Belle felt as though the entire world was pushing down on her, and she couldn't breathe.

She dropped her head into her hands, willing her emotions in check. She would not break down in front of her daughter. After a moment, she felt a tentative little hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," came the small little voice beside her.

"Oh, baby, you have nothing to apologize for," Belle assured her, pulling her daughter into her lap and hugging her close. "Of course you want to know about your dad and of course you want to know where you come from. I'm so sorry I haven't told you much about him. You're growing up so fast, I just thought I had more time."

"More time for what?" Lizzie asked, leaning back to look at her mother.

"For you to be my baby girl," Belle replied sadly. "But I can't keep you in the dark forever."

She pulled the family tree paper toward them, tracing up from Lizzie's name to the blank space for her father.

"I'm afraid you should only fill out your mother's side of this, despite what I'm about to tell you, okay?" she asked, and Lizzie nodded solemnly at her mother's serious tone.

"Your dad's name was William, William Gold. And he was a very powerful man."

Belle hoped she was doing the right thing. Being a parent didn't come with an instruction manual, and there were things she'd rather her daughter not know. She was only eight years old, still a baby in so many ways. But it was time to give her some clues to her father's past. She only hoped what she had to offer would be enough.


	3. Interesting Situations

"_Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of being kindly spoken of._" - Jane Austen, _Emma_

* * *

><p><em>Ten Years Earlier<em>

"I'm nervous," Belle said, chewing on her lip as she stared up at the imposing building in front of her

"Why are you nervous?" came Ruby's voice from the other end of the phone line. "You're going to rock it, you know it!"

"Because what if I'm a complete fraud? I don't know anything and this is one of the best firms in the city."

"Belle," Ruby replied with a sigh. "You landed this internship for a reason. You're a freaking genius. Just walk in there like the badass bitch you are and own the place. Chances are they're just going to send you on a coffee run anyway, right? You're totally up for that."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Look, if there's one thing being your roommate for the past four years has shown me it's that you can do anything. Remember when we had those loud frat boy neighbors who screamed outside our window until 4 in the morning during finals? You didn't let that stand did you?"

"No," Belle conceded. She'd successfully had them removed from the apartment complex.

"What about that time Peter dumped me the day before my birthday? You still managed to make it the best 20th birthday anyone has ever had."

"So I can throw a decent party," Belle allowed. "That doesn't mean I can be a lawyer."

"Yes it does," Ruby insisted. "The point is you can do anything! Now stop moping and go kick some butt."

With that her friend hung up the phone, leaving Belle standing in front of the downtown offices of Midas & Gold, LLC with butterflies rocketing through her stomach.

With one last calming breath, she pushed through the glass front doors, her impractically high heels clicking along the marble floor of the lobby.

She strode toward the large security desk in the middle of the lobby where a young looking man with curly brown hair and a scruffy beard was sitting, tapping various buttons on a console screen.

"Can I help you?" he asked, glancing up at her briefly before returning to whatever he was doing on the screen.

"I'm a new intern for Midas & Gold," she replied. Before she could get out another word, the man held up a hand to stop her.

"Floors 42 to 48," he said calmly. "Go to the 42nd floor and ask for Abigail at the reception desk. She should get you set up with the appropriate security pass."

"Wow," Belle blinked. "It's such a huge building, how do you know the protocol for every company?"

"I'm just a genius at remembering insignificant details," the man shot back with a grin. "Or it could be that you're the third intern for Midas & Gold to ask me that question today. I called up earlier."

"Oh," Belle said, feeling silly. "Oh!" she added, glancing down at her watch to see that it was almost nine. If she kept dawdling she'd be late for her first day.

"Thank you so much, Graham," she said, reading his name off his name tag. Then she rushed off toward the elevators as quickly as her stilettos could carry her.

"Hold the elevator please!" she called as she rushed toward a pair of open brass doors at the end of the elevator bank.

A hand shot out to keep the door from closing and Belle sidled in breathlessly.

"What floor?" an accented voice asked.

"42, thanks," Belle replied, turning to face her elevator companion as he pushed the button.

The first thing Belle noticed about the man was that he was short, only scant inches taller than her in her heels. He was impeccably dressed in a dark three-piece-suit and shiny black dress shoes. His clothes probably cost more than the contents of her entire apartment. Despite that, his hair was on the longer side, almost brushing the collar of his burgundy dress shirt.

He was handsome too, probably no older than his late thirties with dark brown eyes and a mouth that was currently quirked up in a semblance of a grin. Belle realized with a start that she'd been staring and quickly wheeled around to face the doors of the elevator. She could swear she heard the muffled sound of laughter from the man behind her.

"Midas & Gold," the man said suddenly.

"Pardon me?" Belle asked, snapping out of her stupor and glancing back over her shoulder.

"The 42nd floor," he explained, leaning back against the brass railing of the elevator car. "That's the offices of Midas & Gold."

"Yes," Belle replied, trying to regain her composure. She belonged here, damn it. She couldn't let herself be intimidated by handsome older men in elevators. "It's my first day."

"Good luck with that," her companion said with a crooked grin. Something in his tone made her turn back to face him.

"Why do you say that?" Belle asked warily.

"Pretty young thing like you?" the stranger mused. "They'll chew you up and spit you out if you're not careful. You're about to walk into a lion's den, my dear. Rex Midas, well he's a hard ass. If you're not up to snuff he'll have no problem eviscerating you in front of your peers."

Belle felt her blood boil at the man's assessment of her. Suddenly he didn't seem quite so handsome.

"And Gold?" she prompted, leveling the man with her best glare.

"A right bastard," the man said with a snort. "Best criminal defense attorney in the state, and he didn't get there by playing nice."

"And how do you know all this?" Belle asked skeptically, folding her arms across her chest.

"I've worked in this building a long time," he replied with a shrug. "I'm bound to pick up on a few things."

"Well thank you for the warning," Belle said tightly. "But believe it or not a 'pretty young thing' like me will be just fine. I've been dealing with people who underestimate me my entire life. Just because I'm young and a woman doesn't invalidate my worth."

The man arched an eyebrow at her.

"You may just make it after all, Miss..." he trailed off, waiting for her name.

"French," she returned smartly. "Belle French. And you'd better believe it."

The man's smirk widened into a fully lopsided grin at that, but Belle didn't bother admiring it. They'd arrived at her floor, and she had a world to set on fire.

Without another glance back at the man she sauntered out into the wide reception area of the Law Offices of Midas & Gold, LLC. For the first time that morning, she felt confident.

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

"So my dad was a lawyer like you?" Lizzie asked, munching on the cookies Belle had given her while she told her story. "The best in the state?"

"One of the best in the country," she corrected. "People from all over the world would come to him for help. I met him my very first day of work, but I didn't even realize it was him for a week. I just kept seeing him randomly in the building and he never once told me who he was."

Lizzie's face screwed up, a line forming between her eyebrows that was so much like her father it nearly stole Belle's breath away.

"That doesn't sound very honest," Lizzie observed with a shake of her head.

"Well," Belle said evasively. "Your father was a good man, but honesty wasn't always his strong suit. And he was always a bit of a trickster."

"Was he from Boston?" her daughter asked, moving on quickly to her next question.

"No, he was from Scotland originally but he hadn't lived there in years by the time I met him. I think both of us being foreigners here was one of the things that bonded us together."

"Scotland?" Lizzie asked, taking a long sip of milk. "Like Merida?"

"Yep," Belle said with a smile. "You're one half Merida, one half Nemo, kid."

"That makes me a mermaid!" her daughter cried triumphantly.

"I guess so," Belle chuckled. "You're my special little mermaid. And it's time for this mermaid to take a bath."

"Wait, Mom," Lizzie called as Belle stood from the kitchen table to herd her daughter toward the stairs. "You didn't tell me how he died."

Belle felt her heart stutter to a stop in her chest. The last thing she wanted was to relive that awful day. It was one thing to talk about William's life and quite another to remember his death.

"It was just a car accident, baby," she said after a moment, turning to look at her daughter sadly. "A truck ran a red light and hit his car. By the time the paramedics got there it was too late."

"Oh," Lizzie said dejectedly. "That's boring."

"Excuse me?" Belle asked shocked.

"Well you said he was powerful," Lizzie returned with a shrug. "I thought maybe he died in a gun fight or something."

"Elizabeth Anne French, what has Ruby been letting you watch on television?"

"Nothing!" her daughter was quick to defend her babysitter. "But if he was so powerful how could a car accident kill him?"

"Because, sweetheart, as amazing as your dad was, he was still just a man," Belle said, stroking her daughter's hair back from her face. "And sometimes things just happen for no good reason and we can't explain them. The night he died, your dad was on his way to the movies with," she hesitated for a moment, "a friend. I've kept myself awake more nights than you can possibly imagine wondering what our lives would be like if he'd not been on the road that night, if he'd just skipped the movie. But thinking that will drive you mad. Not everything serves some grand purpose, baby. Sometimes things just happen and we have to live with that."

"But…" Lizzie began.

"Bath time," Belle interrupted firmly, pointing toward the stairs.

"Doesn't sound like a powerful man to me," Lizzie muttered under her breath as she headed out of the room with a surly expression on her face.

Belle crumpled into the chair her daughter had so recently vacated, cradling her head in her hands. November 11, 2005 had been the worst day of her life. She was happy to share the good memories of Lizzie's father, but no amount of pleading from her daughter could make her relive that.

* * *

><p>If Monday had been a rotten day, Tuesday was immeasurably worse. Lizzie had groused all evening, in a bad mood over what she perceived as a "boring" death for her father. Perhaps she should have continued with the pretty stories for her daughter. Perhaps she should have let her believe in the fairy tale, that Gold hadn't died in a mundane way but flittered off somewhere exotic or was borne on the backs of winged eagles to a castle in the clouds where they would one day join him. But Lizzie had asked for the truth, and Belle had given it to her as much as she was able.<p>

There were so many things about her relationship with Gold that Lizzie was too young to understand. There were so many things about his life that she'd rather her daughter not know. She was only eight years old. There would be plenty of time for the hard truths of real life. She wanted to keep her baby girl sheltered for as long as possible.

Digging around in the past always had an uncomfortable way of keeping Belle awake at night, so it was with bleary eyes that she made her way into work on Tuesday morning.

"Are you okay?" Graham asked as she strolled through the security area, flashing her badge.

"Just a long night," she conceded, stepping over to where her friend was seated and leaning against the desk. "Lizzie had a lot of questions about her father."

Graham gave her a sympathetic look over the rim of his coffee cup.

For all that Gold had been the love of her life, there were very few people who knew the exact nature of their relationship. There were even fewer who knew who Lizzie's father was. Graham was one of that number.

"What did you tell her?" he asked.

"The truth," Belle replied with a shrug. "He was a wonderful man who I loved dearly who died tragically. But she's a child, she wanted more answers than I could give her."

"She's a child," Graham agreed. "She probably just wants to know what he was like. Tell her stories about him, the good things."

"Apparently his death wasn't imaginative enough for her. Perhaps I should have just let her to continue to believe the fairy tale."

"She's growing up, and you owe her honesty," Graham said, not quite meeting her eyes as he turned to sort through some papers on his desk. "But that's not the only thing bothering you, is it?"

Belle had to concede that her sleepless night wasn't only attributable to bad memories. Part of it was due to trepidation at spending yet another day in close quarters with a very recent ex. A large part of her thought that Gary had only asked for her help on the closing to make her uncomfortable.

"Gary and I broke up," she sighed.

"Oh, no," Graham deadpanned. "I liked him so much."

Belle rolled her eyes. It was no secret that Gary had hardly been a hit with her friends. Ruby thought he was a pompous ass and Graham's opinion was hardly any better.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you're real broken up," she said, pushing away from the counter. "We should get together soon. You have to tell me about that blonde I saw you with last weekend."

"What's to tell?" Graham returned with a shrug. "I like blondes."

Belle shot him a smirk over her shoulder on her way to the elevator.

Her five-minute conversation with Graham turned out to be the highlight of her day. She was stuck in Gary's office, going over documents for the closing, for most of the morning. When lunchtime arrived, she was looking forward to getting out of his uncomfortable presence for a few moments, but Gary informed her he'd ordered in for them so they could work through lunch.

So instead she found herself seated at Gary's desk, eating a turkey sandwich on rye with a glass of iced tea in uncomfortable silence.

"Do you know why I wanted you on this project, Belle?" Gary asked, breaking the silence at long last as he looked up from his Cobb salad.

"I'm the best associate in the practice and you knew I'd get the job done right?" Belle hazarded a guess.

"That certainly doesn't hurt," Gary conceded, wiping his hands on a napkin, and standing from his seat so he towered over her. Gary had a good fifteen inches on Belle. It had always been a source of discomfort, having to crane her neck to meet his eyes. With her seated, she had to lean back in her chair to be able to look at him.

"But the real reason I wanted you here," Gary continued, "was to remind you of what a good team we make. We work well together, Belle."

Belle put down her half eaten sandwich, staring up at the tall man in front of her. He couldn't possibly be serious.

"We haven't been working together," she pointed out. "I've been working and so have you and we happen to be in the same office. It's not the same. You've barely spoken to me these past two days."

"I was hurt by your rejection," Gary nodded. "But I'm ready to talk things out now."

"Look, Gary, I'm more than happy to help you with this project, but our relationship from here on out is a strictly professional one. I meant what I said on Friday."

"I can't just let you go, Belle," he exclaimed. "This isn't over."

And here it was, the fallout she was waiting for. Nothing could ever just end neatly, could it? She'd had so little invested in the relationship with Gary that it seemed odd for him to cling to it with both hands. Had she really underestimated his feelings that much? Or was he just used to getting what he wanted?

"I'm sorry," she said, standing to even out their height disparity somewhat. Even in her heels he still towered over her. "I can't marry you. We don't want the same things and we wouldn't be happy together."

"I don't understand," Gary pleaded. "I've been racking my brain ever since Friday night and I just don't know what went wrong."

"Nothing went wrong," she assured him. "I think we're just in vastly different places in our lives. I'm not ready to get married. I don't know that I ever will be."

"Then why the hell did you lead me on for a year?" he demanded.

Belle felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. She hadn't meant to lead him on, honestly. She didn't realize Gary was as invested in the relationship as he apparently was. They'd always kept things so casual. They'd never even said 'I love you' for Christ's sake.

"I was lonely," she admitted. "I'm sorry. I never should have let things go on as long as they did when I knew nothing could come of it. But being a single mother is hard. It was nice to have someone to go to dinner with, to spend time with when I wasn't just an attorney or Lizzie's mum. It was nice to just be Belle for a bit."

"You can have that permanently if you marry me," he said, taking her by the hand. "And think about your daughter. Elizabeth needs a father figure in her life. The only male influence she has is that security guard…" he spat out the words as though they were something vile.

Belle ripped her hand out of Gary's grip, glaring up at him. It was one thing to want answers, closure on their relationship. It was quite another to bring her child into this and insult her friends.

"Lizzie is just fine," she said, backing away from Gary. "She has everything she needs and to insinuate otherwise is an insult to me as a parent."

"Belle," he groaned. "That's not what I meant. I know you do your best. But girls that grow up without a strong male influence end up damaged. Do you want to see your little girl dropping out of school and working a pole for a living?"

Gary chuckled as if he'd just said something incredibly witty.

Belle felt her mouth drop open at that. She had no words, her anger brimming up inside her and threatening to boil over at any moment.

"We belong together, baby," Gary continued, completely oblivious to her outrage. He was never one for gauging the thoughts and feelings of those around him. It's how they'd ended up in the position in the first place. Gary Stone couldn't conceive of a world where anyone would refuse him anything. Belle couldn't believe it had taken a failed proposal of marriage to make her fully appreciate that.

"You, me and Elizabeth," he said, walking toward Belle. "We should be a family."

"No," Belle said with a shake of her head. "We shouldn't. Elizabeth and I are a family. We don't need anyone else."

"Hush," Gary said softly. "You know I'm right."

Belle's face was a mask of disbelief. How did Gary not understand her? She didn't want to marry him and she could not be clearer about that fact.

"You're not listening to me because I'm not saying what you want to hear," Belle insisted. "But I know my heart, and I absolutely cannot…"

Her words were cut off as Gary placed his big hands on either side of her face, cupping her cheeks before pulling her in for a kiss, his mouth pressing against her non responsive one.

"Stop!" she cried, trying to pull herself out of his grip, but Gary only wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tighter.

Belle shoved at his chest ineffectively. He was too strong. Finally, when he tried to pry her mouth open with his tongue, she pulled back and kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.

Gary doubled over in pain, finally releasing her from his vice like grip.

"Goddammit, you bitch!" he bellowed.

"You were asking for it," Belle shot back.

A knock came from the closed door before Gary's gray haired secretary poked her head in.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, taking in the scene with wide eyes.

"You might need to get Gary here an ice pack," Belle said coolly as Gary dropped to the floor in his misery.

His secretary nodded before scurrying back out into the hall.

"I think you can finish this closing by yourself," Belle shot at Gary as she picked up her files and headed for the doorway.

"Oh, and by the way," she added, glancing back over her shoulder. "I'm reporting you for sexual harassment."

Her righteous indignation lasted until she made her way back down to her own office. Then she shut the door and let the panic that had been brimming underneath the surface during her encounter with Gary break free.

She felt as though the walls were closing in, her heart racing like she'd just run a mile. Gary could have…

It was no use to think it. He never would have gone that far, especially not in their office building in the middle of a workday. But the fact he'd tried to force a kiss on her even after she'd said no was enough to have her stomach roiling, the turkey sandwich she'd had for lunch threatening to come up.

Belle sat down, bending at the waist and taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She was all right, nothing bad had happened. If anything she was even more justified in her conviction not to marry Gary. She shuddered to think what the man might actually be capable of. Hell hath no fury like a spoiled rich boy denied what he wants.

Once she'd calmed down, Belle gathered up her things, determining to work from home for the rest of the day. She couldn't stay here, in this building. It was a miracle she ever got anything done here anyway. The halls were so filled with memories.

After William's death, she'd dropped out of life for a little while. She'd been two months into her judicial clerkship when the accident happened. She'd quit going in to work, curled up in her apartment and crying into her pillow. She probably would have let herself starve to death if not for Ruby and Graham coming by with food and forcing to her eat. Eventually she'd quit.

A month later she'd found out she was pregnant. If not for Lizzie, she would have descended further into her grief, let it overtake her and wallowed there. But her pregnancy gave her purpose. She had to take care of herself because she had to take care of her child, William's child, the tangible proof that their love was real.

She studied for and took the Bar Exam all the while battling morning sickness, taking out Bar study loans to pay her bills. She took up a job waitressing at Ruby's grandmother's diner to make ends meet, and by the time Lizzie was three months old she'd passed the Bar and started going on job interviews. When Midas & Gold first offered her an associate position, she'd been hesitant to take it. It was the place she'd first met William. It was the place they'd fallen in love. In the end, it was that fact, along with the generous compensation, that made her take it. It made their relationship seem more real. He'd never been her husband. Few enough people had even known about their romance. She had precious few people to talk to about him. Being here, in the place where their love had first blossomed, made her feel closer to him, even if he was long gone.

And if his name occasionally came up in passing or was seen on an old document, she'd let the pain wash through her because it meant what they had was real.

She shouldered her laptop bag, heading down the elevator and into the lobby. A quick wave to Graham and a forced smile later she was heading out into the bright afternoon sunshine. Taking a deep breath, she headed for her parking garage. Perhaps she'd surprise Lizzie by picking her up from school.

* * *

><p>Graham watched Belle leave the building, her shoulders slightly slumped. He hated seeing her like this, worn down by the weight of the world. The past decade had been hard on her. She wasn't that same sweet girl he'd first met ten years ago. She was hardened around the edges, her smile brittle like spun glass. Even still, she was so much stronger than she even gave herself credit for.<p>

His cell phone gave a chirp and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket, brow quirking at the unfamiliar number.

"You've reached Graham."

"Mr. Humbert," came a familiar voice from the other end of the line, a voice he hadn't heard in some time. "You've been keeping secrets from me. I think we're overdue for a little chat, don't you?"

Graham felt like the blood had turned to ice in his veins at the sound of the cool voice masking fury coursing underneath, like velvet over steel.

"When do you want to meet?" he asked, his voice blessedly even.

"Eleven o'clock tonight. The old spot. Do try to be punctual."

With that, the line disconnected.


	4. Business and Friendship

_"Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does." _Jane Austen_, "Emma"_

* * *

><p><em>Ten Years Ago<em>

Her first week at Midas & Gold turned out to be one of the most stressful of her life. After heading up to the 42nd floor, she'd met Abigail, an associate attorney at the firm, and ushered into an office with two other law students.

"Good morning," Abigail said brightly. "I want you three to know that you're here because you're among the best and brightest 2Ls in the country. That got your foot in the door, but it doesn't mean you're cut out for Midas & Gold. This summer is going to test you, task you to prove what you're made of. Pending an evaluation at the end of the summer, you may or may not be offered to continue your internship here into the next school year or parlay into a real job after graduation. Any questions so far?"

Belle and her two fellow interns, one a tall blond man in a grey suit and the other a pretty dark haired woman dressed dourly in black, shook their heads and followed Abigail as she led them on a tour of the office.

"We're here because we're the best and brightest, the dark haired girl whispered to Belle as they followed Abigail past the copy room. "But she's only here for one reason. Nepotism."

"What?" Belle whispered back, trying to keep her voice down. Abigail was only a few paces in front of them.

"That's Abigail _Midas_," the girl clarified. "She's Rex Midas' daughter. My mother's an attorney but I'd be embarrassed if working for her was the only job I could get."

Belle eyed the brunette suspiciously. Was she really spreading gossip about a woman they'd just met?

"I'm Regina Mills by the way," the girl continued, sticking out her hand to shake Belle's. "Second year, Harvard Law."

"Belle French," she replied, shaking Regina's hand stiffly. "Boston University."

"Pleasure," Regina said with a wide smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I can tell we're going to be friends. I have a sense about people."

"If you two are done gabbing back there, I thought you might want to familiarize yourselves with our legal library," Abigail called from further down the hall.

Belle hurried to meet up with her and tall blond intern whose name she hadn't yet learned.

By the time they'd completed the tour, Belle's head was spinning. The offices were huge and comprised seven floors of the building. The firm specialized in everything from tax and real estate to criminal defense. She was fairly certain she'd get lost on her way to the bathroom.

"Well, that concludes the tour," Abigail said with a quick smile, leading them back into their shared office space. "Oh, and yes, I am Mr. Midas' daughter. I was also Order of the Coif at Yale Law, Editor of the Yale Law Journal, have my L.L.M in tax, and I got this job because I was the best candidate for the position. Oh, and I have excellent hearing."

With that she spun on her heel, leaving the three interns in startled silence.

"Wow," the blond man said finally. "She's a ball buster."

Regina looked vaguely ill, collapsing into the nearest desk chair.

"I'm David Nolan, by the way," the man said. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself earlier."

"It's nice to meet you, David," Belle replied, shaking his proffered hand. "That's Regina," she added, pointing at the other girl. "Discovering you probably shouldn't gossip about the boss' daughter within earshot."

Regina shot her a nasty look, but David smiled warmly.

The first few days were a blur of meetings and paperwork, Belle putting her legal writing skills to use as best she could. They'd met Mr. Midas on their second day when he came by the office to welcome them. Regina had put on her best smile, dominating the conversation in an effort to impress the partner. David had been able to make small talk with him about their shared love of the New England Patriots, and Belle felt small and unremarkable.

She headed out on her lunch break feeling like she'd made an uninspired first impression when the doors of the elevator parted to reveal the same well-dressed man she'd met the day before.

"Miss French!" he said with a smile as she stepped in to the elevator. "Lovely to see you again."

Belle just shot him a look over her shoulder. She was in no mood to be talked down to at the moment, and she hadn't quite forgiven him for his remarks during their previous meeting.

"How's work at the firm going?" he continued pleasantly, as if they were old friends.

"Fine," Belle answered stiffly, staring ahead at the elevator doors.

"Have you found your new bosses to be as terrible as I warned?" he asked. Even though she wasn't facing him, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Mr. Midas is perfectly nice. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gold yet."

"I wouldn't call it a pleasure," the man scoffed.

"Well if you dislike him so much, I'm sure to love him," she shot back.

"Oh I sincerely doubt that, Miss French."

Belle turned around to face him, crossing her arms against her chest.

"You don't know anything about me," she challenged him. "So stop presuming so much."

"I know more than you think, Miss French."

"Stop calling me Miss French!" she cried, exasperated. She was pretty sure she'd just botched her chance at making an impression on one of the partners at the law firm. The chances of getting much face time with Mr. Midas were slim to none. She was also already panicking about making a good first impression with Mr. Gold when the time came. She didn't need this man needling her.

"Shall I call you Belle then?"

"How about you don't call me anything," she returned, sweetly. "We can just ride the elevator in peace. Silence is golden, don't you know?"

The man let out a snort. "That's my fucking motto."

"Then live by it," Belle said, turning back to face the doors of the elevator.

To his credit, he kept quiet until they arrived on the ground floor, the elevator dinging before the doors opened.

"Don't you want to know my name?" he asked, before she could step out into the lobby.

"No," Belle replied firmly before stalking away without a backward glance.

* * *

><p><em>October 2014<em>

Lizzie sprinted down the front steps of the school, waving goodbye to her friend Jessica and heading off down the street to where Ruby was usually parked, waiting for her. But when she reached the corner, the red Camaro was nowhere to be seen.

She glanced up and down the street, worried. Ruby was never late, and if something had happened she would have called the school to make other arrangements for Lizzie's ride home. She wished she had a cell phone like Jessica, then she could just call her mom. But Mom insisted that she was too young for her own phone.

She sighed, turning to head back to the school and ask the front office to call Ruby.

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth," a voice came from behind her.

Lizzie whipped around to see the man with the cane from the day before. He was smiling slightly, the corner of his lip quirked up, and he looked open and friendly. But Lizzie was skeptical.

"What do you want?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the man and clenching on to the strap of her backpack in case she needed to swing it around like a weapon. It was the middle of the day on well-used street, but Lizzie didn't want to take any chances.

"Nothing," the man, Liam, said with a shrug. "You just dropped this."

He held out a hand, a pink pencil case resting on his palm. That was hers!

"How did you…" she trailed off, craning her neck around to see that her bag was unzipped.

She strode forward, grabbing the pencil case out of his outstretched hand, and glaring up at him.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

The man chuckled, the motion making his eyes crinkle. She wondered how old he was.

"I hope I can be your friend," he said with a grin. "As it is, I told you yesterday, dear. My name is Liam."

"That's your name," Lizzie pointed out. "Not who you are. Why are you following me?"

The man smiled again, but it was sadder this time. No eye crinkles.

"I live just around the corner," he pointed down the street. "I like to take a walk in the afternoons. It helps to stretch my leg."

He tapped his right foot with his cane and Lizzie wondered what had happened to it. She felt like it would be bad manners to ask, but she couldn't pull her eyes away, wondering what horrors were hidden beneath his pressed trouser leg. Maybe he had a wooden leg like a pirate.

"You talk weird," she spat out instead, in her haste not to call attention to his handicap.

Liam chuckled again, the eye crinkles back. "Well that's because I'm not from here," he mused, leaning against his cane and cocking his hip as if he were settling in for a long conversation.

"Where are you from?" Lizzie asked. Her mom always told her that her curiosity would get the better of her. She liked to know everything about everything. She knew she shouldn't be talking to a stranger, even if it was all Aunt Ruby's fault for being late. But now there was an interesting man with an accent and a possibly wooden leg who was answering her questions. How was she supposed to run away from that?

"I was born in Scotland," Liam replied, and Lizzie's eyes widened with the news.

"My dad was from there!" she exclaimed.

The man suddenly looked a little pale, like he might be sick, his lips slightly parted. Lizzie backed away just in case.

"Was?" the man finally rasped out, coughing to clear his throat. "He's not anymore?"

"He's dead," Lizzie said with a shrug. She supposed she should feel sadder about the fact, but it was hard to miss someone you'd never met. She wished she had a dad, but in the same way she wished she had a pony. She didn't know what it was like to really have one.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Liam returned, swallowing thickly.

"He died before I was born so it's not a big deal."

Liam stared at her for a long moment, until she started to feel vaguely uncomfortable. She felt as though he was searching for something, scrutinizing her.

"Even still," he said finally. "Family is very important. It's the most vital thing there is. To lose one's family is the greatest tragedy."

Lizzie supposed that was true. Her family only consisted of her mom and her Grandpa Moe who lived back in Australia, but she'd be sad if she lost either of them.

A sudden thought struck her and it tumbled out over her lips before she could even think it through.

"If you're from Scotland, maybe you knew my dad!" she exclaimed. Scotland couldn't be that big. Maybe they were friends. Maybe they were even related.

"It's a whole country, dearie," Liam replied with a twist to his lips.

"But my dad was kind of important, I think," she surmised, based off her mother's stories. "Did you know someone named William Gold?"

Liam took a deep breath, as though he were steadying himself for something big. Lizzie bit her lip, leaning forward imperceptibly, wanting his answer more than anything in the world.

"I've not heard that name in a long time," he said sadly. "But yes, I knew him. Many, many years ago."

Lizzie felt her heart thumping in her chest. Someone who knew her father! She had so many questions.

"What was he like?" she asked first.

"Just a man," Liam shrugged. "No better or worse than anyone else. He'd have loved you, though. I can guarantee that much."

"My mom doesn't talk about him much," Lizzie grumbled. "I wish she would. I mean, I'm eight; I'm not a baby anymore. I have a right to know about my own parents."

Liam nodded.

"You're all grown up, aren't you?" he said sadly. Lizzie wasn't sure she'd go that far. She was still in third grade, and she was short for her age on top of that. Maybe by the time she was in sixth grade she'd feel more like a grown up.

She was about to tell him so when a loud shout interrupted them.

"Elizabeth?" she heard a frantic voice yell. Liam's face went pale once again. She wasn't entirely sure he wasn't sick.

Lizzie backed away from him again and turned toward where the shouting was coming from.

"There you are!" her mother cried, turning the corner, running at her and pulling her into a tight hug. "I was worried sick, baby!"

"I was waiting for Ruby," she said, her voice muffled against her mom's shoulder.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't stand out here on the street alone," her mom insisted. "If Ruby isn't here, you go back to the school to wait, okay?"

"I wasn't alone," Lizzie said motioning over her shoulder. "I was with Liam."

"Who's Liam?" her mom asked confused.

"My friend," she replied. "He's right over…"

Lizzie's voice trailed off as she looked over her shoulder. The corner where Liam had been standing was empty.

"He was right there," she insisted, pointing out the spot.

"Sweetie, there's no one there."

"I didn't make him up!" Lizzie cried.

"I didn't say you did," her mom said, standing up and taking her hand to walk back to her car. "Is he a friend from school?"

"No," Lizzie said with a shake of her head. "He's a grownup. His name's Liam and he's really nice."

Her mom stopped walking suddenly, and Lizzie was yanked back by the hand when she kept going.

"Where did you hear that name?" her mom asked.

Lizzie looked up at her mother with wide eyes.

"That's just his name," she said with a shrug. "I heard it from him."

"And he's not a student?" her mom asked frantically. "Where did you meet this man?"

"Outside of school," Lizzie said warily. She was beginning to rethink if she should have told her mom about Liam at all. Her reaction was so strange.

"Lizzie, what have I said about talking to strangers!" her mom cried.

"He's not a stranger!" she protested. "I've seen him a couple times and he said he knew…" she trailed off, not sure if she should bring up her dad yet again. "He knew lots of cool things."

"Oh, baby, no," her mom shook her head. She looked frightened and that scared Lizzie. "Absolutely not. The next time you see this man, you run and get a teacher, okay?"

"Why?" Lizzie asked, assured in her conviction that she should have kept her mouth shut.

"Promise me, Elizabeth," her mom insisted.

"Fine," Lizzie agreed, crossing her arms against her chest. She didn't know why her mom was overreacting so much. Liam seemed perfectly nice. He'd had ample opportunity to abduct her and he hadn't. He didn't drive a creepy van or offer her candy. He was just nice and answered her questions without telling her they were silly. And something about him seemed sad. She wondered if maybe he was lonely.

Lizzie knew a thing or two about that. She had her friend Jessica, but Jess was one of five kids and always had her brothers and sisters to play with. Ruby was a great babysitter, but she wasn't like a real friend. And as much as she loved her mom, she worked a lot. Some nights she wouldn't get home until after Lizzie had gone to bed, and she almost never made it home in time for dinner.

So Lizzie figured she could use all the friends she could get. If Liam wanted to be her friend, and knew things about her dad, there's no way she was going to listen to her mom and stay away from him.

"What are you doing here?" Lizzie asked, suddenly aware of how strange it was for her mom to pick her up from school. "Where's Ruby?"

"I took the afternoon off," her mom said, seemingly happy to change the topic away from Lizzie's new friend. "What do you say to hamburgers for dinner?"

"Okay," Lizzie replied, still surly. She was already looking forward to the next time she saw Liam. If her mom wouldn't talk about her dad, maybe at last she'd found someone who would.

* * *

><p>It was a cold October night and the wind bit through Graham's jacket as he made his way to the docks. He hadn't been down here in years. It had been a blessed relief to be out from under William Gold's thumb. He'd owed the man a debt, but as far as he was concerned he'd paid back in spades.<p>

"You're late," came a voice from the shadows, and Graham jumped in spite of himself.

"It took me a while to find the old place," he lied, coolly.

"I'm sure," Gold said with a smirk, stepping out of the alley between two warehouses and approaching Graham. He hadn't seen the man in nearly a decade, only passing along information and receiving a check deposited to his account bimonthly. The payment had always made him feel sleazy, but he needed the money too badly to protest.

Gold had aged in the past nine years. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and starting to grey. The lines around his face were more pronounced, thrown in to sharp relief in the streetlight overhead. The most startling difference was that the man now limped along with a cane, though he hardly looked like he let the injury slow him down. If anything, the cane added to the aura of mysterious power that Gold had always generated and had only been enhanced with his added years.

"So good to see you, Mr. Humbert," Gold continued. "How long has it been?"

"Not quite long enough, I'm afraid," Graham choked out in response. "So you're back in Boston?"

"Indeed. I found, as time went by, that the very things that had driven me from this city no longer seemed to matter as much."

"But why come back?" Graham asked. He knew it was futile, knew Gold had already discovered the truth. If not he wouldn't be here. But some shred of his dignity that was left in his miserable person insisted he try to protect them, even if it was a lost cause.

Gold narrowed his eyes at the younger man.

"You know exactly why, dearie" he said in a dangerous voice. "Is she mine?"

For a moment he considered lying, claiming Elizabeth was someone else's child, his even. But Gold would discover the truth one way or another, and Graham wanted to be alive to protect them.

"Yes," he replied softly, glaring into Gold's eyes as if daring him to protest.

Gold seemed unsurprised by the news. Perhaps he'd already known and just wanted to force Graham to say it, to own up to the secret he'd kept for nearly nine years.

"You kept my daughter from me," Gold growled.

"I kept your daughter alive," Graham shot back. "I would say you owe me, but I didn't do it for you."

A look of dawning comprehension passed across Gold's face followed by a cruel smirk.

"You fell in love with her," he accused.

"Yes," Graham agreed, enjoying the way Gold's eye twitched with barely contained anger. "But not in the way you think. I fell in love with both of them. And I wanted to protect them, especially from you."

"They didn't need protecting from me."

"Didn't they?" Graham countered. "If you'd known that Belle was pregnant, if you'd known about Lizzie, what would you have done?"

"I'd have come back," Gold said simply.

"Exactly. And their lives would have been in danger. You would have played happy family and gotten all of you killed. You left to protect Belle, I was just making sure you continued to do that."

"So he doesn't know about them?" Gold asked, his voice wavering slightly. "He's never shown any interest?"

"Very few people know the extent of your relationship with Belle," Graham assured him. "Even fewer know that Elizabeth is your daughter. I made sure of it."

"Thank you," Gold said after a moment, staring down at the gold tipped handle of his cane.

"Like I said, I didn't do it for you."

"All the same," Gold returned.

Graham nodded stiffly, and they stood there in awkward silence for a moment, united in their care for the same woman.

"I'll expect you to continue in my employment," Gold said finally. "Unless you have some objection."

Graham couldn't contain his disbelief.

"You want me to spy on her for you?" he asked, aghast.

"I want you to continue what you've been doing for the past nine years, yes," Gold replied, seemingly unconcerned by what he was asking of Graham.

"That was different," he clarified. "I never thought we'd see you again. You being here changes things."

"How so, dearie?"

"It feels…wrong," Graham protested. "And unnecessary. If you want to spy on Belle, do it yourself."

"You've been taking my money under false pretenses for years and you're going to grow a conscience now?" Gold snarled at him, gold tooth glinting in the dim light.

"I won't do it," he insisted, bracing himself for the other man's anger. Instead, Gold chuckled.

"I'll double your pay," he shrugged. "And in return, I want a relationship with my daughter."

Graham felt as though his eyes bulged out of his head.

"How the hell do you expect me to arrange that?"

"You and Belle are apparently close," he sneered. "You have her ear. Soften her up to the idea."

"She thinks you're dead!" Graham nearly shouted. "The whole bloody world thinks you're dead. How do you prepare someone for a resurrection?"

"Well I don't want you to tell her the truth," Gold said, looking at Graham as if he were a simpleton. "Just, get her used to the idea."

"Used to the idea that her dead boyfriend is alive and wants to spend time with her daughter?" Graham scoffed. "You're fucking insane. Besides, we both know what happens if you come out of hiding. And make no doubts about it, if you're a threat to Belle and Elizabeth, I'll take you out myself."

"You've no idea what I've been up to for the past nine years, dearie," Gold said with a smirk. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"That's the attitude that got you in this mess in the first place," Graham mumbled.

A moment later he found himself pinned to the side of the warehouse, the handle of Gold's cane pressed against his throat, cutting off his supply of oxygen. There was a manic gleam in Gold's eye that he'd never seen there before. Perhaps his accusation of insanity was closer to the truth than he'd realized.

"You think you know anything about what happened?" Gold hissed, his face only inches from Graham's. "You're nothing but a little boy I pay to run my errands. Don't for one moment think you understand me."

Graham gasped for air, his mind starting to panic. But before his vision could go black, Gold released him. Graham slumped to the ground, choking and sputtering.

"You have work to do, dearie," Gold spat. "I'll transfer the money to your account."

Graham sat there on the cold, dirty pavement, catching his breath, as Gold slinked off back in to the shadows. It looked like more had changed about the man than a few gray hairs and a limp, but he still seemed to get the last word.


	5. Nothing But Suffering

_"One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering." - _Jane Austen_, Persuasion_

* * *

><p><em>Ten Years Ago<em>

Belle was beginning to wonder if she had a tracking device connected to her. She'd run in to the "elevator man" as she'd taken to calling him no less than 4 times in as many days. It was as though he knew the moment she stepped into a car alone and managed to be there as well. It would have been unnerving if he didn't make her so annoyed.

Meanwhile, she'd been able to glean a little bit of information about the other main partner, Mr. Gold. Apparently he didn't spend as much time in the offices as Midas. As the elevator man had told her, he was one of the top criminal defense attorneys in the state, if not the country. He was frequently out of the office meeting with clients, and when he was around, he spent most of his time holed up in his own office on the 48th floor. The man was an enigma, and Belle found herself growing more and more curious the more she learned.

"He's apparently some kind of genius," David Nolan told her that Friday as they sat together during their lunch break. "A complete eccentric, you know? He'll take any case, as long as you can afford him, and let's just say, that rules out most people."

"Any case?" Belle asked, disbelievingly. "What are we talking? Murder? Extortion? Organized crime?"

"All of the above," David agreed. "Some of the scariest people in Boston have him on retainer. And he's flown all over the country to take on high profile cases. He's the best there is."

"At getting guilty people off the hook?"

"At getting people accused of dangerous crime their day in court," David contested. "Every person deserves a chance to defend themselves and be tried by a jury of their peers. Don't you agree?"

"I do," Belle said with a nod. "But I question the integrity of a man who takes on any case that can afford him. What kind of arrogance must he possess? And does he feel no moral obligations, no sense of civic duty to be defending these types of criminals?"

"I wouldn't go saying that kind of thing too loud," David cautioned her. "He could be a determining factor in the future of your legal career one day. Don't you want a job when all this is said and done?"

"Yes, but not at the sake of my soul."

David chuckled at her, taking a long sip of his diet coke.

"You might be in the wrong profession."

She parted ways with David after lunch. He was tagging along to a deposition with Abigail and she was headed back up to the office to help one of the attorney's in estate planning.

She headed in to the elevator, blessedly empty, when a hand suddenly appeared halting the doors from closing.

"Apologies," the elevator man said, not even looking in Belle's direction as he slid in to the elevator and pressed the button for the 48th floor.

"I'm sure," Belle groaned, leaning back against the wall of the elevator car.

The man whipped around, that same infuriating half smile gracing his handsome face.

"You again," he chuckled.

"Oh don't act so surprised," Belle spat. "I'm on to your game, mister."

"And what game is that?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"You're following me," she returned, narrowing her eyes. "There's no other explanation for why we keep ending up sharing an elevator. It's too much to be coincidence. For some reason you've decided to torment me. I'm just not sure why."

"I assure you it is nothing more than a happy coincidence. Perhaps the universe wants us to be acquainted."

"The universe doesn't want anything," Belle sighed. "It is a random and chaotic place."

"A beautiful, acerbic Australian with no belief in a higher power? I hit the jackpot with you."

Belle scoffed. "I don't think anyone's ever described me as acerbic before. You must just bring out the worst in me."

"Or the best," he returned. "A matter of opinion."

"So why are you stalking me?" she asked, ignoring the way his words made her feel slightly flushed. "Following strange women into enclosed spaces and forcing them to speak to you does count as stalking doesn't it?"

"Oh be kind to yourself, I wouldn't call you strange," he smirked. "And it's not stalking. Just two people who work in the same building and apparently take a similarly timed lunch break."

Belle felt her confidence falter. Perhaps it was nothing more than a random coincidence. Perhaps there was no more at play here than a similar schedule. But something about this man made her feel reckless. Belle wasn't shy, but she had always had a certain caution about her. She played by the rules of social convention and propriety. This man made her want to forget all that.

"You know, the first time I saw you, I thought you were handsome," she said, surprising herself with her own honesty. "It's funny how getting to know someone can completely change your perception of them."

"And you seemed like a shy, retiring delicate flower. How wrong I was."

Somehow he made that statement sound like anything but a compliment. Belle ripped her eyes away from him, staring at the button panel and wishing the car would reach the 42nd floor before she could say something else foolish.

"You think I'm handsome," he smirked after a moment of silence.

"Past tense!" she shouted.

It was only after they'd reached her floor and she'd stumbled out of the car, blushing furiously, that she realized he'd been headed to the 48th floor. Belle suddenly had the overwhelming fear that she'd just accidently flirted with a co-worker.

By Monday morning, that fear had metastasized into an overwhelmingly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had to drag herself into work and sat miserably at her desk, trying to focus on her assignments until Regina rushed in, her face positively glowing with excitement.

"They want us in the conference room on the 44th floor," Regina announced to Belle and David. "Mr. Gold just took on a huge case and they need the interns help."

"Gold?" David exclaimed, surprised. "They want us to work for Gold?"

"Yes!" Regina nearly screamed. "Hurry up!"

With that Regina ran out the room as quickly as her black pumps would carry her. Belle and David exchanged bewildered glances before jumping up to follow her.

"What on earth could they need us for?" Belle mused, her excitement at the prospect of meeting the mysterious Mr. Gold outweighing her nervous stomach.

"No idea," David returned as they followed Regina into the elevator. "From what I've heard he never takes on interns. I didn't expect to ever even see the man, much less work on a case with him."

The butterflies rocketed around Belle's stomach and she couldn't help but think about what the man on the elevator had told her. That Gold was a bastard who didn't get where he was by playing nice. They reached the doors of the conference room and Belle straightened her spine, keeping her chin up and praying to any higher power that she didn't make a fool of herself.

They cautiously entered the room which was already occupied by several other people. A pretty brunette had her head together with an older gray haired man Belle assumed was Gold, as she scribbled away on a notepad. Another older blonde woman was seated at the conference table leafing through a thick file without glancing up at them. Finally, Belle's own elevator man was standing in the corner, pouring himself a glass of water before taking a seat.

She felt her stomach plummet. Here she was in her first meeting with _the_ Mr. Gold, and her very own tormenter was there to quite possibly make her look like an idiot. Belle didn't curse often, but this was a fucking nightmare.

"Ah," the gray haired man said, looking up from his private conference with the brunette. "You must be the new interns. Have a seat."

Regina and David sat down quickly and Belle followed suit, trying her hardest to avoid looking at her elevator man. She could feel his eyes on her though and it took all her willpower to listen to the partner when he began to speak.

"You've been brought in today because our firm has recently taken on quite a high profile murder case and we're assembling our defense dream team," the man said bracingly. "I don't think I need to reiterate that you are employees of this firm and as such the attorney-client privilege does apply to you. Nothing you hear in these sessions should be repeated to anyone."

All three interns nodded seriously before the man continued.

"As you've doubtless heard, Leopold Blanchard was murdered in his home two weeks ago."

Belle nodded again. Blanchard was one of the richest men in the country. Head of a multinational conglomerate headquartered in Boston, Blanchard had a hand in nearly every major industry on the planet. His death had been all over the news lately, especially since the police had begun to suspect foul play.

"Late last night, Sidney Glass was arrested for the murder of Mr. Blanchard. We've agreed to represent him in the ongoing criminal investigation."

"Sidney!" Regina exclaimed from Belle's side.

"Do you know him, Miss Mills?" the man asked, eyeing her over the rim of his glasses.

"Not well," Regina replied with a shake of her head. "He used to work for my family years ago."

The gray haired man eyed Regina for a long moment before continuing.

"This is not going to be an easy case. Public opinion is already against Mr. Glass. Blanchard was extremely popular in Boston for his charity work and philanthropy. But everyone is innocent until proven guilty. It's our job to make sure he has a fair trial."

The interns nodded again at the new information and Belle was momentarily overcome by fantasies of single handedly discovering a key piece of evidence to acquit Mr. Glass, impressing the entire firm and securing a place among their ranks. The pretty image popped like a pinprick in a balloon when she accidently made eye contact with her elevator man again. She'd be lucky to make it out of this summer unscathed.

"Now for the introductions," the gray haired man continued, smiling widely in contrast with his earlier sobriety. "My name is Michael O'Keefe and I'm one of the senior criminal defense attorneys here at Midas & Gold."

Belle was a little startled. She'd assumed they'd been speaking with Mr. Gold, but apparently he wasn't even in the room yet.

"This is my legal assistant Rory Rosenbaum," he continued, gesturing at the brunette.

"Down at the end of the table you have attorney Mallory Fitz." The woman raised a hand in greeting, but else gave no indication she had noticed the interns presence. "And finally, a man who needs no introduction, our lead attorney and partner Mr. William Gold. Gold, these are our new interns Regina Mills, David Nolan and Belle French."

"Pleasure," Gold said with a smirk, his eyes locking with Belle's. She suddenly felt like the entire room had started to constrict. Her elevator man, the one who was by turns infuriating and charming, the one she had repeatedly insulted and just three days ago called handsome, was her boss. She thought she might be sick.

* * *

><p><em>October 2014<em>

The rest of the week flew by in a haze of too much coffee and not enough sleep. By Friday, Belle was ready to collapse from sheer exhaustion. After she'd lodged a formal complain for Gary's harassment, he'd mysteriously vanished for the rest of the week. The closing had fallen squarely on her shoulders since she knew the most about the deal. On top of that, she'd had to log long hours finishing up her regular work.

But Saturday dawned bright and unseasonably warm for late October. So that afternoon found Belle camped out on a park bench with Graham while Lizzie played on a nearby jungle gym.

"So, you were going to tell me about the blonde," Belle said, narrowing her eyes at her friend and taking a noisy sip of her iced tea through a straw.

"Oh was I?" Graham chuckled. "There's nothing to tell really."

"She was very pretty," Belle lead, hoping for more.

"Yes she is."

Belle just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Her name is Emma and she's a detective with the Boston PD."

"And…" she gave up on subtlety, going in for the kill. "Are you going to see her again?"

"Dunno," Graham shrugged, avoiding her eye.

"Graham, what the hell!" she cried, slapping his arm. "You always do this. You meet some amazing girl and then completely let it fall apart. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm a loner."

"You're lone_ly_," she shot back. "There's a difference."

Graham fixed her with a look.

"I'm not lonely. I have you and Lizzie."

"Oh yes," Belle sighed, leaning back against the bench. "Your spinster best friend and her charming illegitimate child. That'll keep you warm at night."

"Okay," Graham countered, crossing his arms against his chest. "Two can play this game. What keeps you warm at night?"

Belle bit her lip, considering his question. She had a ready answer, though she wasn't sure she wanted to give it. She'd long ago come to the conclusion that love and romance weren't in the cards for her. That ship had sailed, so to speak. Wasting time with Gary, dating, none of it mattered because it was a foregone conclusion it would come to nothing. She was simply biding her time, getting through the day. She knew she'd never fall in love again.

"Memories," she finally said softly.

The playful smirk that had been flitting around Graham's face during their earlier conversation slipped at that.

"So I guess we're both lonely then." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and Belle leaned into him.

"I'm not lonely," Belle protested. "Not enough to settle for something I don't want. I had true love and I lost it. Once you know what that's like, there's no going back."

"What if you had him back?" Graham said suddenly. "If he walked up to you right now and said he wanted you back, wanted a place in Lizzie's life. What would you do?"

Belle stiffened at his question. She didn't like to think about all the things she could never have. It made the stream of water that was always about her ankles start to rise until she thought it might drown her, an entire deluge of regret and sadness and anger over the unfairness of it all. It made it difficult to breathe.

She pulled out of Graham's arms, taking a deep steadying breath.

"There's no use thinking about that, is there?" she said by way of answer.

Graham just stared at her for a long moment before shrugging again.

"I suppose not."

Belle felt she could breathe easier as soon as he let the topic of conversation go, and she leaned against his shoulder once more.

"Besides, if you're really lucky you might just meet another Gary," Graham said, wincing when Belle elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Mom!" Lizzie called from where she was perched on top of the monkey bars. "Watch this!"

A moment later she had flipped upside down, hooking her knees around one of the bars and letting her arms dangle beneath her head.

"Be careful!" Belle called back, cringing at her daughter's daring streak.

"She's absolutely fearless," she muttered to Graham.

They lapsed in to pleasant silence, watching as Lizzie climbed down from the monkey bars and ran in a wide circle around the perimeter of the playground. Belle envied her daughter's energy. She just felt more and more worn down.

"You could always marry me," Graham said so suddenly that Belle began to choke on her iced tea as it went down wrong.

"Excuse me?" she gasped.

"Why not," Graham shrugged. "We're both lonely. We get along well. I love your daughter. We could leave Boston, get far away from this place. You can't tell me you never thought about it."

"Never thought about marrying you or never thought about leaving Boston?" Belle asked, unsure of where her friend was going with this train of thought.

"Leaving," he clarified. "It can't be easy for you living here, working in that same damn building."

She cut Graham off with a hand over his.

"_One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering_," she quoted. "And my time in Boston has definitely not been all bad. I did think about leaving, yes. But that feels like giving up. It hurts, but that's how I know it was real. Does that make sense?"

Graham shook his head, turning his hand around to clasp with hers.

"You're still so committed to him, even after all this time," he said wonderingly. "Why?"

Belle shrugged. She couldn't explain it, not to someone who'd never felt the way she'd felt. It wasn't as thought they'd broken up and she was still pining away for him. He'd been cruelly taken from her, snatched away when their story was just beginning. Belle had no doubt in her mind that what she and Gold had had was true love, the kind of once in a lifetime event that people search their whole lives for. Perhaps she was looking back with rose tinted glasses, but she didn't think so. She didn't love him any less today than she had ten years ago. Her love had not diminished. That meant something.

"He was the love of my life," she said simply, trying to put it into words. "Nothing since has ever come close. No one has ever made my entire body tingle with just the sound of their voice. He was it for me."

Graham looked at her sadly, a storm of emotions in his eyes that she couldn't quite discern. He reached up to cup her cheek softly, forcing her to look at him.

"So I take it that means you won't run away with me?"

"Sorry," Belle said, patting him on the arm. "My life is here. You should ask Emma out again."

Graham turned away, looking back out across the playground. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right. Besides, you're entirely too handsome and too nice and too wonderful to be single."

Belle turned her attention back to the children running and playing in the park, scanning the crowd for the tousled brown curls that would never stay in her ponytail. A quick pass over the playground equipment had Belle's heart hammering in her chest. She stood, suddenly looking around the perimeter of the park.

"Where's Elizabeth?" she asked Graham frantically.

"She was just by the monkey bars."

"Well she's not there now!" Belle exclaimed. How could she be so careless? She'd only looked away for a moment, engrossed in her conversation with Graham. Now her daughter was gone.

"Elizabeth!" she called, walking quickly around the playground in case Lizzie was hiding in the slide or else trying to torment her mother.

Graham rushed off in the opposite direction toward a wooded area, scanning the trees.

As the seconds ticked by, Belle felt her heart beating painfully in her chest, her breathing coming in short gasps. She was panicking, but she couldn't stop it. She couldn't lose Lizzie, she was all she had in this world. Without her daughter she would fade away to nothingness. Tears pricked at her eyes threatening to fall.

"Elizabeth!" she screamed again, bile rising in her throat, her stomach churning at the thought of what could have happened to her daughter.

"I'm right here, Mom!" Lizzie called, trudging over morosely. Her shoelaces were untied, and she was stuffing something into her jacket pocket, but she looked unscathed. Belle felt faint with relief, feeling like the blood that had frozen in her veins in terror was suddenly rushing, warming her extremities too quickly.

"Don't you ever wander off like that again!" Belle yelled, grabbing her daughter and pulling her into a tight hug.

"I'm fine, Mommy," Lizzie groused, pushing out of her mother's embrace. "You're suffocating me!"

"Where were you?" she asked, holding her daughter at arms length and pushing her unruly curls from her eyes.

"Just over there," Lizzie said, motioning at a cluster of trees near the edge of the playground. "I thought I saw a ferret."

"A ferret?"

Lizzie nodded. "I thought it might be lost."

"Never run off like that, do you hear me? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I didn't even leave the park," Lizzie said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't care! You stay in my line of sight at all times. If you want to go somewhere else, you ask for permission. If you don't, you'll be grounded."

"That's not fair!" Lizzie protested.

"Oh it's more than fair, young lady. You're lucky I don't take away TV privileges for a week for that. Now go say goodbye to Graham because we're going straight home."

Lizzie marched over to where Graham was standing across the park, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. Her mom was completely overreacting. She'd seen Liam and she wanted to talk to him. If her mom wasn't such a crazy person about her new friend in the first place, she would have just told her so.

She fingered the heavy gold ring with the blue stone in her pocket. Liam said it had belonged to her dad and he wanted her to have it. He'd also told her not to show it to anyone. She slipped the ring on to her thumb, though it was still too big and slipped off. She'd have to hide it once she got back to her room. There was no way she was going to let her mom know about it.

Gripping the ring in her hand, she already felt closer to her dad. Now she had something of his, something that he'd touched, worn. It was the most of the man she'd ever had.

* * *

><p>Gold breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Belle pull their daughter away from the playground toward the parking lot. He knew it was careless to come here, careless to follow them. It was true that no one looked for a dead man, especially one dead as long as him. But his proximity to Belle and Elizabeth could only put them in danger.<p>

But he'd always been a selfish and greedy man. Now that he'd met Lizzie, got to know her, he wanted more of her. He wanted his daughter to be his daughter. He was tired of lurking in the shadows, appearing only to Elizabeth and counting on her youth and naïveté to keep his identity safe. But he was already walking a fine line. His daughter was smart, and if he wasn't careful she'd soon realize who he was. If she told Belle the truth before he was ready…

Well he didn't want to think about what her reaction would be.

Graham was supposed to be slowly acclimatizing her to the idea, though he knew that was futile. You couldn't prepare someone to welcome back a dead man. She would be shocked and angry. She would have so many questions he couldn't yet answer. Not for the first time he wondered if it was worth it. Perhaps he should just stay dead, skip town and leave Belle and Elizabeth to their peace. He had no doubt they were better off without him.

But he wanted them, both of them. He wanted the family he never got to have with Belle. In the nine years he'd been gone, not one day had gone by that he hadn't thought of her. He still loved her so very much. To see the scorn in her eyes when she realized all of his lies, well, it was too much to think about just now.

He limped his way back to the small dingy apartment he'd sublet near Lizzie's school. He had money to burn, but was trying to stay incognito. Flipping on the overhead light of the studio apartment did little to improve the place, the flickering yellow fluorescence casting a pallid glow on the off white walls.

The place had come furnished with a small couch and television in a makeshift living area. Behind a folding screen was a double mattress and box springs, lacking a proper bed frame. Getting in and out of the thing was murder on Gold's ankle and more often than not he found himself stretching out on the too short sofa for a night's sleep.

Collapsing on that same sofa, he turned to the side table, pulling one of his only personal effects in the apartment toward him. In a small silver frame there was a photograph, yellowed around the edges and crumpled from years spent in his pocket. A young Belle French stared out at him, blue eyes shining and dark hair streaming behind her as she laughed from the bow of his sail boat. It had been one of their last weekends together. Of course, he hadn't realized that at the time.

If he had, he wouldn't have wasted time taking photographs. He'd have dragged her down to the cabin and made love to her one more time. He would have told her that he loved her again and again until his voice was raw and he was sure she believed him. If he'd known the end was coming, he'd never have been strong enough to let her go.

Gold smiled, tracing her cheek in the photo with his fingertip. She was so beautiful, and nine years hadn't diminished that at all. She still looked just as lovely as she had the first day he'd seen her in that elevator and he'd asked which floor. When she'd given him Midas & Gold's floor, something in him had known that he would one day be hers, utterly and completely. He hadn't quite planned on it turning out this way, but his heart still belonged to Belle French. That part he'd predicted quite accurately.

Setting the photo down, Gold got up and trudged over to the small kitchenette. Opening up the bottom drawer next to the refrigerator, he moved the contents around, extracting a black bag from the bottom. Straightening, he set the bag on the countertop, opening it and pulling out his Walther PPK and stashing his rifle and other weapons back in the bag.

He'd come back to Boston for Belle French. If he was going to stay, he had to tie up some loose ends.


	6. Ways and Means

_One man's ways may be as good as another's, but we all like our own best._ - Jane Austen, _Persuasion_

* * *

><p><em>Ten Years Ago<em>

Belle had trouble focusing on the rest of their meeting. There was talk of witnesses and depositions, of evidence and motives, but it all washed over her without leaving an impression. She knew she should pay attention. Next to her, Regina was furiously scribbling down notes, but Belle's own notepad was blank. Belatedly, she jotted down a couple of things that Mr. O'Keefe had said, but the sinking feeling that she was failing this internship that had plagued her since their first meeting with Midas was back in full force.

She'd spent a week in conversation with her other boss, and hadn't even realized it. Against her better judgment, her eyes kept being drawn to the man. Mr. Gold. It didn't help that every time she looked at him, he seemed to already have his eyes on her, a smug, satisfied smirk on his face.

After they were handed out their various assignments for the week, Belle stood and stormed out, wanting nothing more than to get back to her office, curl up under her desk, and die.

"Miss French," she heard the accented voice call her, and hated the way it set off butterflies in her stomach. Why oh why did he have to have such a lovely voice? Juries probably sided with him on that alone. No wonder he had such a high success rate.

"What?" she asked, spinning around on her heel to face him. Her cheeks felt warm, a week's worth of embarrassment falling squarely on her shoulders, but even more than that she felt angry.

"I just wanted to tell you what a pleasure it was to properly meet you at last."

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" she demanded, hardly caring that she was hissing at her boss. She'd already ruined any chances she had of a future at this firm, so why stop now?

"And miss out on all your precious banter?" Gold replied with an arched eyebrow. "I would never. And, if you recall Miss French, I offered you my name and you didn't want it."

"That's because I didn't know who you were," she said, surly. "If I had, I'd never have…" she trailed off unsure of where to go with that statement. She'd never have insulted him? Called him handsome? Spoken to him at all? Possibly all of the above.

"Exactly," he conceded. "If you'd known who I was you'd have bowed and scraped and been on your very best behavior. I'd have never had a chance to see the real you behind the sycophantic behavior. I've already seen that manic gleam in Miss Mills' eyes. But I've completely avoided it with you."

"You didn't see the real me," Belle countered. "You saw me pissed off and annoyed."

"People show their true selves when annoyed," he said with a shrug.

"That's funny. I've always thought you can't know what's in a person's heart until you truly know them. And excuse me, Mr. Gold, but you don't know me at all."

Belle finished, chest heaving with anger and embarrassment and no small amount of fear. She could feel her hands shaking, but Gold didn't seem to notice. He was staring at her as though she'd just done something extraordinary.

"Well then, let's change that," he said finally with a devastating half smile. Despite her anger, Belle felt a fluttering in her stomach and she grinded her teeth together to keep from answering his smile with one of her own.

"What's going on here?" Mallory Fitz asked, approaching from behind Gold. Belle didn't think she imagined the way he cringed at the intrusion.

"Just getting to know one of our newest employees," he returned with a false smile.

"Oh I'm sure," the older woman said, crossing her arms and leveling Gold with an appraising look.

"Why don't you come with me, Miss French," she continued, keeping her eyes trained on Gold. "We can have a little chat, just us girls."

Mallory spun on her heel, heading off down the hallway and Belle ran after her, trying to keep up. She could feel a prickling on the back of her neck that told her Gold was still watching her.

"You might want to steer clear of him, dear," Mallory said, laying a comforting hand on Belle's shoulder as they turned the corner toward her office. "Wouldn't want you to get snapped up by the crocodile now would we?"

"Crocodile?" Belle asked, confused.

"The man has a crocodile smile," Mallory arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as they reached the door of her office. "He can lie through his teeth and right when you let your guard down he'll snap you up with a grin on his face. It's what makes him so efficient at his job. Far be it from me to criticize one of the most brilliant legal minds I've ever encountered, but just between us girls, try not to believe a word he says. He's entirely too charming to be trusted."

Belle snorted. "Well he certainly hasn't charmed me."

The corner of Mallory's lip quirked up in a smile as her eyes swept up and down Belle's form. She had the uncomfortable feeling the other woman was sizing her up.

"Congratulations, Miss French," she smirked, ushering Belle into her office. "You're my new protégé."

* * *

><p><em>October 2014<em>

Gary Stone stared down into his drink sourly. A little over a week ago his life had been in complete order. He'd had a great job, a beautiful girlfriend, the entire world at his feet. But now, well, all that had changed.

And he owed it all to Belle French.

He scoffed, taking another long swig of liquor, letting it burn down the back of his throat and settle warmly in his belly. A week ago he'd been prepared to marry the little bitch. He'd have even adopted her illegitimate brat, let her carry the Stone name and all that entailed. Instead he was sitting in a shit bar with no job, no fiancée, and, if he didn't find employment soon, a townhouse he could no longer make payments on.

He'd been good to her, damn it. And after all that she'd turned down his proposal, kicked him in the balls, and had him forced to resign from Midas, Gold & Nolan.

Belle shouldered most of the blame for his current situation, but he found a healthy store of anger for Abigail Nolan. She was only a partner because of who her father was and she was entirely too sensitive about _harassment_. The bitch was probably on the rag.

Gary's black thoughts turned to his former boss' incompetence due to her gender and he found a certain amount of joy in imagining catching her in a dark alley somewhere when he was rudely interrupted.

"Gary Stone?" came a voice from beside him.

"Who's asking?" Gary grunted back, not bothering to look at the source of the voice.

"That's not important at the moment," the voice returned. "But you are of great interest to my employers."

Gary finally turned to look at the man beside him, his eyes taking a moment to focus.

"I understand you've been intimately involved with a woman by the name of Belle French."

"What about her?"

"Well, my employer is quite interested in the little bird and even more interested in her little chick."

Gary sat up at that, giving the man his full attention. He was youngish, probably near Gary's age or not much older with a scruffy beard, an earring and a leather jacket. He looked like he belonged in a band or maybe a gang in one of those god-awful musicals Belle used to make him watch. The ones where they all snap and dance in formation.

"What does you employer want with a little girl?"

The man shrugged, leaning against the bar on his elbows. "It's not really my place to ask. I'm just acquiring information."

"Information like what?" Gary asked, his eyes narrowed.

"The girl's father. Did Miss French ever happen to mention him?"

Gary sighed, turning back to his drink. The last thing he wanted to think about was Belle and whatever bastard knocked her up and split.

"I don't make it a habit of dwelling on my girl's past mistakes."

"Oh but information on this particular mistake could be quite lucrative for you," the man crooned, locking his blue eyes on Gary. Was the poof actually wearing eyeliner?

Whatever his thoughts on his companion's fashion choices, Gary couldn't argue with something that might get him paid. He had no job and no references. The last thing he wanted to do was crawl back home to his father begging for money. He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm listening," Gary acquiesced, downing the rest of his drink.

"Wrack your memory for anything Miss French may have mentioned over the course of your relationship. If possible, speak to her on the subject."

"We broke up," Gary grunted. "I don't think she wants to talk to me."

"Oh I'm sure you can be very persuasive, Mr. Stone," the man said amiably. "And if you can't, I certainly can."

He shifted his jacket, revealing a nasty looking hooked knife, almost like a small scimitar.

"It's a kerambit," the man grinned, patting his jacket back in to place. "Picked it up in Sumatra. I call it Hook and it's never let me down. You're not going to let me down, are you Mr. Stone?"

Gary sized up the man. He was slight, a few inches shorter than Gary himself. He could probably take him. But the man had mentioned an employer and he was in no rush to get on the wrong side of certain people in this town.

"Who is your employer?" Gary demanded, the alcohol burning in his veins giving him courage.

"I can guarantee that if you do your job right, you need never know."

The man gave him one final smile before turning and heading toward the door.

"I'll be in touch," he called over his shoulder. And then he disappeared into the gloom outside the bar.

* * *

><p>Lizzie was curled up on her bed, idly stroking the blue moonstone ring she held in her hand. She'd looked up the kind of gem it was on the Internet.<p>

It felt weird, having something of her dad's after all this time. Like somehow now he was more real to her. For her entire life, her father had been more of an idea than a living, breathing person. But now she had something of his, something that proved he had lived. It made Lizzie feel sad about her father for the first time. Her mother had loved him and now he was gone. It was a fact she'd long known that only now seemed to hit her.

It made Lizzie sad for her mom most of all.

She wondered how Liam had come to own the ring. He hadn't had time to explain at the park, just giving it to her and telling her it belonged to her father. She didn't get to ask half her questions before her mom started yelling for her and Liam had shooed her away.

She wasn't sure why Liam was secretive around her mom either but it didn't seem right. Mom might not like to talk about her dad, but surely meeting someone else who knew him would be good for her. She'd been sad by herself for so many years. Maybe it was time to share the sadness and make it a little easier to hold.

Lizzie resolved to talk to Liam about it the next time she saw him. But it had been almost a week since he gave her the ring and there'd been no sign of him since. If she didn't have the ring as proof, she'd have started to think he was imaginary after all.

"Lizzie!" came her mom's voice from the hall. "Ruby is here!"

She scrambled to stuff the ring back in the little jewelry box her grandpa had given her for her fifth birthday and slid it under her bed. She'd only just popped back up on the bed, leaning against the pillows and trying to look cool, when her mom walked in.

"What are you doing?" her mom asked with narrowed eyes.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, motioning around at the empty bed. "Just sitting."

"Mhmm," her mom agreed, still looking skeptical. "Come on downstairs. The movie starts in an hour and Ruby wants to get dinner first."

Lizzie dragged herself off the bed and trudged down the stairs after her mom. It was Friday night and she was going to the movies with Ruby and Granny, then spending the night with them at their brownstone.

"Why can't I just stay here?" she whined. She loved Ruby, but she'd rather just stay in her room tonight.

"Because Ruby wanted you to visit and Granny hasn't seen you in a while. It'll be fun!" her mom said brightly.

Lizzie did her best not to glower at her mother, but it was a hard fought battle.

Ruby smiled at her, giving her a big hug and promising hamburgers and milkshakes, but Lizzie still wasn't feeling it. By the time she was ushered out into Ruby's car, she was in a more rotten mood than ever. She wished she could see Liam, but he appeared to have abandoned her.

* * *

><p>Belle watched as her daughter shouldered her bag and headed out the door after Ruby. In truth, she didn't want her to go. She'd have loved to spend the evening curled up on the couch watching My Little Pony with her daughter. But Ruby had insisted she needed a night off.<p>

She had to admit she'd been running herself ragged the past two weeks. Work had been stressful, she'd just been through a break up, and Lizzie was acting strangely.

She'd tried talking to her daughter about what was going on, but the kid was like a steel trap. Ever since the incident at the park the previous weekend, it was like Lizzie was a different kid, sulking up in her room, hiding things from Belle. She hadn't the foggiest idea of what was going on and only hoped her daughter might be more open with Ruby, though the thought sent a splinter right through her heart. Her baby was only eight. It was too soon for them to be drifting apart.

She headed to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine while she mulled over her thoughts. Lizzie had obviously been up to something when she'd walked into her room earlier. It would be so easy to run upstairs and check through Lizzie's room. But Belle had lived eighteen years under the roof of a controlling father. She always swore she'd never be that kind of parent to her own kids. She wanted to trust Lizzie, but she was just a child. Who knew what kind of trouble she could be getting in to?

She took a long gulp of wine, steeling herself for the moment, that one where she became her parents.

"Yep," she said to herself, slamming the wineglass down on the counter. It was time to see just what had gotten in to her daughter.

She felt like she was walking up the stairs in slow motion. The memory of her father reading through her journal when she was fifteen reared its head from the depths of her mind. She'd been so furious with him at the time, but looking back she could understand why he'd done it. Her mother had just passed and she'd retreated in to herself. Neither she nor her father were good with expressing grief and the communication between them had reached an all time low. Her dad had only wanted to know what was going on inside her head. But it was still a violation of her privacy that she'd never forgotten.

She stopped outside Lizzie's room, taking a deep breath before pushing open the door. The room was just as her daughter had left it, the bedspread slightly mussed from where she'd been sitting. Belle walked forward, glancing around the room for any signs of something out of the ordinary.

Glancing down, she noticed that the rug next the bed was flipped up at one corner, as though someone had tripped over it. Dropping to her knees, Belle peered under the bed finding misplaced socks, crumpled up coloring pages and dust bunnies. Lizzie really needed to clean up under there.

But close to the foot of the bed was something odd; a pink and white jewelry box covered in hand painted roses that her father had given Elizabeth a few years ago. What was that doing stuffed under here with so much junk?

She reached for the box, pulling it towards her curiously. Just as she was about to open it, the doorbell rang downstairs.

Belle pulled her hands away as if she'd been burned. What was she doing? Her daughter was eight years old. What could she possibly be hiding? It wasn't as though her third grader had some secret double life. She was a child.

She shook her head at her own paranoia, pushing the jewelry box back under the bed. She was glad of the distraction really. She was obviously moments away from losing her mind.

She ran down the stairs, figuring Lizzie had forgotten something, when the bell sounded again. Rushing to the front door she threw it open, stopping short at the sight that awaited her on the doorstep.

"Gary!" she exclaimed.

"Belle," he returned with a shy grin, a dozen red roses clutched in one meaty hand.

Oh, this wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

* * *

><p>The night was dark, especially on this end of town. The man couldn't have picked a seedier area to live, but what did one expect from a gambling addict with a noticeable tell? Bluffing and expensive taste could only get you so far in this world.<p>

One pathetic street lamp gave off a flickering light, hardly enough to banish the shadows that seemed to churn and thrive like a living creature. Gold turned up his coat collar against the cold night air, limping down the street with one hand concealed in his pocket. The cool handle of his gun gave him a certain amount of reassurance. In his life before, he'd never been a violent man. But over the past nine years he'd learned to take care of himself. He'd learned to take back what was his. This night was no different from countless others.

He finally found himself in front of a dank apartment building, thanking his lucky stars that the man only lived on the second floor of this hellhole. He didn't think his ankle could take much of the stairs.

As he climbed the stairs, hand still fisting the solid weight of the gun in his pocket, his thoughts perversely turned to his daughter. What kind of man was he? What kind of father could he possibly be? If that sweet girl could see him now, she'd be fucking terrified. She'd run away so fast she'd look like a blur and with his ankle, he'd never keep up.

Gold pushed those thoughts down. The things he'd done, everything he planned on doing, it was all for family. If there was one thing he appreciated in this life, it was the bond of blood. That was something he would never willingly forsake.

Reaching the correct door at long last, he lifted the handle of his cane to rap sharply.

A scuffle sounded inside the apartment, something like the scrape of furniture and the sudden flurry of activity. Grimacing, Gold raised his cane to knock again.

A moment later the door opened just a crack, the security chain still in place. One blue eye peered out at him from the dimness of the apartment, bleary at first then widening with recognition and then even more so with shock.

"You…" the owner of the eye sputtered. "What the…fuck!"

"Yes, yes, I'm alive, it's a miracle," Gold deadpanned. "Now aren't you going to invite me in?"

The eye narrowed at that, sweeping up and down Gold's form before seeming to come to a decision.

"Whatever the hell happened to you, I want no part of it."

"See, I was afraid you'd say that," Gold growled, before jabbing his cane through the crack in the door right into the flesh beneath the other man's throat. He reeled back, sputtering, and Gold used the opportunity to throw his slight weight against the door, once, twice, before the shitty little latch gave way and the door sprang open.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?" Gold asked, entering the apartment as he pulled out his pocket square and wiped off the handle of his cane to free it from the disgrace of having touched the man's door.

"Friend?" the man rasped, rubbing at his throat with one hand. "Is that what we are?"

"Close enough," Gold shrugged as the man continued to stare daggers at him.

"It's a shame your last novel did so badly," he continued, glancing around at the apartment's peeling wallpaper and ratty furniture. "The once promising August Booth brought so low. It seems you can only live the fast life for so long before it catches up to you."

"You'd know all about that, it seems," August glowered. "What do you want?"

"I've been out of Boston for a while," he said with a flourish. "I've kept an eye on the place, of course, but I need insider information on some of our mutual friends."

"And what makes you think I'd tell you anything? There are people who would pay me very well just for the knowledge that you're alive."

"I'm sure. But they don't know you the way I do, dearie."

"What's that supposed to mean?" August asked.

"Just because you're down on your luck doesn't mean you'll stay that way. And when your star begins to rise again, you might regret being on my bad side."

August was still looking at him blankly, so Gold continued.

"You used to engage in a certain amount of _tourism_ when you had the money for it. A certain trip to Cambodia comes to mind."

"What of it?" Booth bluffed, but the man never had much of a poker face. It was the reason he found himself in such dire straits now.

"You should know I always keep tabs on my friends," Gold replied coolly. "You never know when you might need…leverage."

Booth paled, his face white as a sheet beneath his scruffy beard.

"So, do we have a deal?"

The younger man nodded, his mouth slightly agape.

"Wonderful," Gold exclaimed, clasping his hands over the top of his cane. "So first things first. You're gonna tell me where he is, and you're gonna tell me who I have to kill to get to him."

Booth nodded again, falling back to sit on the ratty sofa with a dull thud. Gold kicked the apartment door shut behind him. It was time for answers.


End file.
